For Newt
by Alyssa316
Summary: Four years after Thomas, Minho, Gally, Brenda, and the others reach Paradise, Thomas and Minho have a conversation about Newt and the other Gladers. The truth about Newt's death comes out. Post TDC.


It had been four years. Four years since Thomas, Brenda, Minho, and the other Immunes had been saved.

It had been the best years of Thomas's life, that's for sure. But that wasn't saying much, considering he didn't remember really anything since he showed up in the Glade that day.

Those years hadn't been easy, though. Not a day had passed that he hadn't thought of Chuck, or Newt, or Teresa. Even though he had tried so hard to forgive WICKED for what they'd done, he just couldn't. Of course, they weren't all bad - their leader had actually been the one to save them - but Thomas would never forget that they were the ones who took three of his best friends from him forever.

He had just left the house to go for a walk to clear his mind when Gally spotted him.

"Hey, shuck."

Thomas looked up. "Whadda ya need, Gally?" He and Gally were on speaking terms, but weren't exactly buddies or anything. It was odd for them to have a conversation.

Gally looked at him in disgust. "Me? Nothing. Minho was looking for you though, I think. Asked if I had seen you around."

"Where'd he go?"

"Heck if I know. He walked that way," he said, pointing at he mountain overlooking the sea on one side and the forest on the other. "Check there, I guess."

Thomas muttered his thanks and walked toward the mountain. He began scaling the peak. Sure enough, Minho was sitting on a blanket, staring vacantly at the forest below.

Thomas wasn't sure if Minho wanted company, so he stood there for a second. "Mind if I join you?" he asked tentatively.

Minho grunted and shrugged. Thomas took the invitation and sat next to him, staring at the forest. "What's up, shank?"

Minho smirked at him. "You still sound like a klunky idiot when you speak like the Gladers."

"My apologies," Thomas replied, returning the smile.

Minho looked at him for a second, then turned back to face the endless trees. "Do you ever miss it, in the Glade?" he asked abruptly.

Thomas thought for a moment. "Yeah," he admitted. "I mean it's great here, with Brenda and Frypan and all, but it's just not the same. Not without..." - he nearly choked up - "...the others."

Minho nodded, he obviously knew what Thomas was getting at. "I just always dreamed, ever since I was put in the Maze of escaping again, of doing something worthwhile with my life. But now that I'm here...I'd rather be back there than anything, really. I just miss being with him...with all of them."

Him. Thomas immediately knew who Minho was referring to: Newt. Minho never really spoke much of his time with the Gladers before Thomas arrived, but he did know he and Newt were extremely good friends.

Thomas immediately felt an immense amount of grief and guilt on his chest. "I did it." he said quietly.

The words escaped his lips before he could even think. Thomas didn't know where they came from, seeing as how he swore he would never tell Minho what he had done that night.

Minho was looking at him like he feared for Thomas's sanity. "What the shuck are you talking about?"

Thomas glanced up at Minho, worried about he would react. But there was no way he could turn back now.

"I did it, Minho. I killed him." Saying it made him hurt all over again, he pictured Newt, helpless and mentally unstable, underneath him. He pictured the look in his eyes as he gave his final wish. The memory tore at his heart.

"Killed who? Thomas, who are you talking-?"

"Newt!" Thomas cried. "I killed him!"

Minho seemed to be fighting all of his emotions, trying to figure out which one to settle on. He decided with denial.

"Shank, I don't know what the klunk you're talking about, but I swear, if you joke around like that with me ever again-"

"I'm not lying!" Thomas yelled in frustration. He drew his hand into his pocket and pulled out a strip of paper, creased and yellowing. He always had it with him. As a reminder. He shoved it at Minho. "He gave me this the day he found out he was infected. Told me to read it when the time was right. Said I'd know when." He couldn't say more without running the risk of crying.

Minho read the note quickly. His eyes widened. Thomas knew exactly what it said, he could never erase the words from his mind: _Kill me. If you've ever been my friend, kill me._

He looked at Thomas, and his eyes showed that he was confused, heartbroken, and angry, all at the same time. "And you did it?" he asked, the words barely audible. "You killed him?"

Thomas nodded briefly. He wouldn't look at Minho.

"How? When?" Minho was quieter than Thomas had ever heard him, and he could tell he was distraught.

Thomas refused to look up. "That night Brenda and I went to see the boss of Red Arms. There was an ambush of Cranks. Newt was one of them." He hesitated. "I wanted to save him. I got out of the van and went over to him. He wasn't completely insane...he still recognized me."

Minho looked at him as if he wished it all to be just a story, but Thomas could tell he knew he was telling the truth.

"I had a gun in my hand, in case the Cranks tried to attack me. Newt grabbed the gun and pointed at his forehead, and...and...he told me to pull the trigger."

Minho interrupted. "You did it, just like that?"

"Hang on. I thought he was completely mental, too far gone, and I couldn't do it. Not if he didn't know what he was saying. But then suddenly his eyes cleared, and I knew, deep down, he was sane. He knew exactly what he was saying and he meant every word.

"And he begged me. The words still haunt me...'Please, Tommy. Please.'"

He expected Minho to yell, to attack. What he saw was even worse. Minho, the strong, bulky guy he always looked up to, was in tears. "You did the right thing."

Thomas broke down. "I - I pulled the trigger...I felt his body slack - and convulse - and then...and then...he didn't move again. I couldn't - couldn't bear - to look at him...I ran, Minho. I ran."

"It was the way he wanted it," Minho said, his eyes fixed on the trees. He, too, wouldn't meet his friend's eyes.

"No, it wasn't! Remember when we tried to save him? And he was so mad at us - at me! I hadn't read the letter yet! He wanted me to kill him then, before it went too far! He hated me, he thought I had never been his friend!" Thomas's rage had come from nowhere, Minho actually backed away from him in alarm.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"S'okay, shank."

Minho looked at Thomas. "I was the fifth person to come through the Box. Newt and Alby were already there."

He looked sideways at Thomas. Thomas was curious where this was going.

"Like you, I uh - didn't favor Alby very much. The others - you never met them, already dead when you came through - were similar. But Newt...Newt got me. We hit it off. We became Runners the same week, and we enjoyed it, at least for a little while...until Newt tried to kill himself of course, and he couldn't do it anymore. Resided to leading with Alby.

"But even though Newt wasn't a Runner anymore, we still were friends. He and I became like brothers. Our bond only grew stronger during the Scorch...and when I found out he was infected...well...I daresay I took the news worse than either you or Newt.

"I always dreamed WICKED found a cure after we escaped, and they saved Newt and all the Clanks. I knew it was too much to hope for. But I still did. If anyone deserved a chance at enjoying life, it was Newt."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Minho looked at him, and through his tear streaked face, he was smiling. "Thanks for telling me the truth."

Thomas smiled back. He was so thankful he had someone like Minho to speak to.

The two of them stood up. Minho spoke first. "Well, I guess we ought to try to enjoy ourselves here the best we can."

"Yeah, it's what Newt would have wanted."

"For Newt."

"For Newt."


End file.
